


Sunflowers

by mishabutts



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Mother's Day, Sunflowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 16:01:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishabutts/pseuds/mishabutts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam wants to buy flowers for Mother's Day, Dean is barely holding it together, and Cas is supporting them as best as he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunflowers

It’s Mother’s Day and Dean is pissed because… well, because it’s _Mother’s Day_. He doesn’t need another reason damn it, that one’s good enough. 

He’s watching TV in the batcave with Sam and Cas – _we’re going on a sabbatical, Dean, a well-earned break_ , Sam had said. He couldn’t argue with that, hell, he hadn’t wanted to. If he’d known what today was ahead of time, of course, he would have rustled up a couple of monsters to hunt in two seconds flat.

There are people talking about and celebrating what today is on every channel because it’s daytime TV and what the fuck else is there to broadcast. As Sam clicks quickly through each programme, Dean clenches his fist and breathes steadily out through his nose, trying to anchor himself to the sofa. Half-remembered days come flooding back to him and something in his stomach twists. It’s funny how after so long, remembering her is still as painful as it was all those years ago. 

A gentle, slightly callused hand closes over his fist and his entire body tenses at the suddenness of it, but he doesn’t pull away; he looks up into Castiel’s eyes instead, then at the small, strained quirk of his lips, the perpetual stubble that covers his jaw, and the gentle slope of his nose. Mapping out Cas’s features makes Dean feel calm and he realises that everything there is familiar and warm and safe. Dean takes a deep breath and returns the smile, a silent _thank you_ , a silent _I’m okay_.

He looks across then, past Cas, to Sam whose face is far too stoic. Dean wants to say something, ask how Sam’s holding up, but his throat closes in on itself as he watches a tear trickle down his brother’s cheek. So instead Dean turns back to the TV and laces his fingers with Cas’s, gripping tightly to keep his composure. 

The sound from the TV is blurred and distorted when it reaches Dean’s ears. He tries to concentrate but fails and he’s not sure if he cares anyway. His mind blanks for a while and he’s pretty sure his eyes glaze over until someone speaks and the words percolate through the haze around him.

“I want to buy her flowers, Dean.” Sam’s voice is quiet but it appears to echo around the three of them, jarring and unwelcome.

Dean doesn’t say anything. He can’t say anything. Cas is looking at him now, he can feel the heat of the angel’s gaze along with Sam’s and Dean ignores them both, choosing instead to stare intently at the wall beside the TV.

“We’ve never bought her flowers.” Sam’s voice again.

Dean manages to clear his throat with a gruff cough before he turns to face his brother. “That’s ‘cause it’s bullshit, Sam.” It comes out too loud, too harsh. He shakes his head. “She’s dead. No use for flowers when you’re dead.”

“I know that.” Sam grouses, angry now, and Dean can sense a hint of exasperation too. “That’s not why people buy flowers. They’re not waiting for the dead to rise up and sniff the roses. It’s for remembrance.”

“You don’t need flowers to remember mom, Sam.”

“No, _you_ don’t need flowers to remember mom. You had time with her, Dean. I never did.”

Sam’s throat sounds dry and cracked and Dean can’t help but wince a little in sympathy. Sam angles his head away as if Dean hadn’t already seen his red-rimmed eyes and tear-tracked cheeks.

Before Dean can open his mouth there’s a hard poke to his ribs and he only just stifles a yelp. He flicks his eyes over to meet Cas’s and sees the dude pouting, actually _pouting_ , all sad and angry, as he tilts his head, silently indicating that he agrees with Sam on this one.

Dean frowns, annoyed at the double team. Five seconds pass and he’s rolling his eyes, unable to hold out on giving in to his brother, his stupidangelboyfriend, and, if he’s honest – himself. He wants to get the damn flowers too. 

“Fine, okay? Fine.” Dean sighs. “We’ll get some from that gas station up the road.”

“A gas station, Dean?” Sam asks, incredulity etched into his face. “Shouldn’t we make more of an effort?”

“Well, Sammy, if you’ve got the number of any florists pencilled into your journal let us know and we can get right on it.” Dean flashes him a wry smile.

“Alright, jerk, quit with the sarcasm.”

Dean’s tone is warmer when he replies, “yeah, okay, bitch.” He allows himself a small chuckle. “Baby needs a refuel anyway.” 

*

The three of them stare ruefully at the small selection of flowers that the gas station has to offer; some are surely too mottled to be considered fit for sale and most of the others are wilting sadly. Sam sighs and crouches down to take a closer look at a bouquet of bug-bitten roses. Dean, on the other hand, spots a flash of yellow behind a bunch of dirty white lilies and he moves closer, pushing the lilies aside. 

There he finds a small collection of sunflowers – they aren’t perfect; some of the petals are bent and none of the stalks are the same length, but they’re definitely in better condition than the rest of the flowers. 

Dean remembers the day he saw a sunflower for the very first time. His mom had taken him the long way home after going out to get ice cream. He’d been overjoyed – he used to love it when they went on walks, maybe even more than he’d loved eating ice cream. The flower had loomed out at them over someone else’s garden fence and Dean recalls being startled by it, confused at the newness of it. Of course, being so young he saw new things every day but this was different, this new thing was more vivid than everything else, more astonishing. And even though its face had no eyes Dean had been very sure it was watching him – not in an unkind way, but curiously, like it wasn’t sure what Dean was either. He turned to his mom and asked her what it was.

“It’s called a sunflower, baby.” She’d said softly, smiling at his sweet naivety.

“A sunflower.” He had tried the name out himself, tasting it on his tongue, feeling it on his lips. He’d thought it was a very accurate name. If he’d had to name it himself he would have called it a sunflower too. 

But that was the last time he’d eaten ice cream with his mom, the last time he’d walked with her, and the last time Mary saw a sunflower. 

Dean sniffs and tries to steel himself against the tears that threaten to roll down his cheeks. He feels a warmth at his side and then a pinky finger curls around his own. He looks up at Castiel and smiles meekly, embarrassed that he’s been caught reminiscing. Cas smiles back and leans closer to press his lips lightly against Dean’s jaw. Dean’s breath comes out shakily as he works to conceal the new emotions now bubbling up inside him; gratitude and affection among the most prominent. 

Cas pulls away and nods at Dean then at the flowers, illustrating that he thinks they’re a good choice too. Dean looks over at his brother who is turning over a few rotting azaleas in his hands with an expression of mild disgust on his face. Dean huffs out a quiet laugh.

“Get her the sunflowers, Sammy.”

“The sunflowers?” Sam questions, as he stands up and walks over to inspect them more closely. “I don’t know, Dean. They’re a bit… _garish_ , aren’t they?” Sam is frowning, mouth pursed, and he tilts his head as if viewing the flowers from a different angle would make them more appealing somehow.

“They’re lovely,” Cas says quietly, smoothing out a bright yellow petal.

Dean nods and whispers, “she liked sunflowers.” He smiles wistfully as he meets Sam’s sad eyes.

“Okay.” Sam gives a small nod. “Okay.”

They buy three, one from each of them, and instead of making the long journey to Mary’s grave they put them into a makeshift vase in the kitchen. Dean prefers it like this anyway. He’ll see them when he gets up in the morning and that thought consoles him more than he dares to admit.

Sam goes to bed early that night and Cas retires into his and Dean’s bedroom not long after. Dean stays up for a while, drinking a beer and just spending some time by himself, not really thinking about much at all. He’s grateful that Cas can tell when he needs time alone, he’s always grateful for the angel’s heavenly intuition but probably never more so than tonight. 

Dean sighs when his beer is done and leaves it on the side. He walks into his bedroom to find Cas under the blankets reading a book from their library, hair ruffled from pressing into the pillows. It’s a welcoming sight and Dean doesn’t hesitate, stripping quickly down to his boxers and crawling under the covers beside Cas. The bed is already warm thanks to the angel’s body heat and Dean’s muscles relax so completely he swears he hears them sigh. 

Then there’s a loud thud of a book being dropped onto the floor and before he can lift his head up to check Cas is all right two strong arms encircle him, one sneaking under his neck and one folding around his waist. Cas brushes his lips back and forth over Dean’s forehead and the motion is so soothing Dean wishes he could fall into it and never climb back out.

He doesn’t realise he’s crying until he hears Castiel’s voice, low and reassuring in his ear. 

“I’ve got you, Dean, I’ve got you.” 

He buries his face into Cas’s shoulder and the arms around him squeeze tighter, pulling him even closer. A moment passes and Castiel begins to hum softly, a tune that Dean knows is Enochian. It’s his favourite one; the one Cas uses to drown out the occasional hell nightmare. 

The faint vibrations in Castiel’s chest and the deep melody they produce lull Dean slowly into a peaceful sleep. 

And the last thing he hears that night is his mom’s singsong voice, a very distant memory, entwining gracefully with Castiel’s gentle song: _It’s okay, baby, it’s all okay. Angels are watching over you_.


End file.
